


Call it a Fantasy

by IndianSummer13



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Leather Jackets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndianSummer13/pseuds/IndianSummer13
Summary: 'He’d thought about her in it before but he’s committing this vision to memory now because she looks like a dream. She looks, he decides, unequivocally and irrevocablyhis.'Or, five times in which Betty Cooper wears Jughead's serpents jacket.





	Call it a Fantasy

The first time Betty puts the jacket it on, it’s out of necessity and although she doesn’t say as such, Jughead knows she’s less than comfortable with it seated on her shoulders. 

They’d spent the evening at Pop’s - him typing away on his laptop while shoving in mouthfuls of chili fries and her sipping politely at a vanilla milkshake with her hands on his leg. She’d wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, Jughead knew, but he couldn’t type properly if she did and so she’d shuffled as close as she could get, settling for their grazing thighs instead. 

They hadn’t noticed it growing dark and by the time they leave, the air has a decided chill that makes her snuggle in closer as they walk to his truck. She’s wearing only a sheer blouse and a pair of jeans and all Jughead has in the vehicle to keep her warm is the black leather jacket with the serpent adorning its back. 

“I’m okay,” Betty says, hugging her arms across her chest in a display that says precisely the opposite. 

“Betts,” he says softly, running his hand down her arm. “You’re shivering.”

And so she lets him reach into the back seat to grab the jacket, setting it over the smooth fabric of her blouse. 

“Thanks.”

He eyes her for a moment, something inside of his chest tightening and so he turns the key in the ignition before he can figure out what it means.

They pull up outside of her house and she turns to him, shrugging the leather off and folding it neatly before handing it to him.

“You can keep it until tomorrow,” Jughead tells her. “Stop you catching a cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” Betty smiles softly, and he knows that what she means is she doesn’t want her mom to see her in it. He understands. The luxury of staying warm for an extra couple minutes is worth giving up if it means she can slip up to her bedroom without one of Alice’s interrogations.

“Okay.”

“I love you Juggie,” she whispers, opening the door of the truck. He leans over the space she’s just left, the lingering scent of her perfume filling the air and making him wish she was staying with him tonight. Or, you know, always. 

Her head dips so their lips can meet and he feels her smile against him. 

When they break apart, her eyes are dancing. “I love you too Betts,” he says.

-

The second time she wears the jacket, it’s when he takes her with him to the Whyte Wyrm. He’s there on business. He doesn’t elaborate and she doesn’t ask, but she hadn’t wanted him to go alone and for some reason (probably those doe eyes she uses to make him melt to a puddle, Jughead figures) he’d let her come. He wants her to understand that the Serpents aren’t all bad.

“Put this on,” he says, handing her the jacket and digging his hands into his pockets nervously. 

Betty can sense his unease and trails her fingertips down his arm. “Okay,” she replies in a whisper. His skin burns as they walk into the bar.

“This your girl Jones?” Someone asks from over by the pool table. He can see Betty’s fingers curl inward but it’s the cuff of his jacket she’s clutching rather than her own palm and he’s more than grateful to own it in that precise moment.

She looks at him and he answers, “Yes.” He’s not about to extend anymore information about her but being courteous as she is, she uncurls her fingers, extends her hand and announces her name. 

Only because he knows her does Jughead identify the way her voice jumps up a quarter octave. “Betty Cooper.”

He hopes she doesn’t notice the serpent’s lip twitch ever-so-slightly in recognition of her surname, but he extends his index finger just enough that he can run it over the hand that hasn’t just been shaken. Betty turns hers just slightly in silent acknowledgement and he speaks. “I’ll be five minutes.”

She wants to kiss him, Jughead can tell, but she knows this isn’t the place and so she nods instead. “I’ll be fine.”

He’s not sure whether she’s trying to convince him or herself but he decides this conversation he’s about to have can be tied up in three minutes. Less, if he’s concise enough.

When he returns, she can’t hide her smile of relief and when he closes the passenger door of the truck once she’s seated back inside, he hears her audible sigh. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Now you’re back,” she replies, curling her fingers around his. He’s never bringing her here again. “If anything happened to you…” she starts but he cuts her off with his lips on hers. 

“I know.”

He knows, because he feels the same about her.

-

Jughead wears the jacket more often than he wants to lately. It’s hot in the heat of the summer sun and it makes his t-shirts stick to his back but it’s a uniform and when he’s _at work_ he keeps it on.

It’s the first thing to come off when he reaches his trailer.

He’s sitting on the couch, Betty stretched out and leaning against him asleep as the Friends credits roll in the background. He’d turned the volume down as soon as he’d noticed her eyes close and her breathing even out but he hadn’t turned off the show despite pretty much hating it. It’s her favourite.

She’s here to study - or, at least that’s what they were doing originally. She’d been stifling yawns and so he’d convinced her to have a break: “Just a half hour baby,” he’d said. “Or an episode of Friends. They’re only twenty minutes.”

She’d grinned at his use of the pet name and it stole all of her fight. “Okay. One episode.” 

That was over an hour ago but her mom’s out of town and won’t be back until the early hours of the morning and Jughead knows she hasn’t eaten dinner. It’s not like he can cook, and if she’s going to be studying when she wakes up again, she’ll need something to eat. 

Extracting himself from under her, he puts in a call to Pop’s and dusts a kiss across her forehead. She smells like cupcakes and strawberries and something inside of his chest tugs when she mumbles something unintelligible in her sleep. He ducks out of the trailer before she wakes because otherwise, she’ll tell him to cancel and end up cooking some sort of gourmet feast for them both. It’s not like he’d complain, but he’d rather she got some rest.

When he returns around a half hour later, Betty’s sitting up on the couch, awake and biting her nails. And wearing his jacket. Tears pool in her eyes and he forgets the food in his hands, rushing to pull her into a hug.

“Betty, what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t tell me you were going out.”

“I went to get -”

“- You didn’t take your phone,” she interrupts. “I was worried. I thought...” A brief sob pushes past her lips and she turns her face into him, burying it in the crook of his neck.

It still catches him off guard, even now, the way she worries about him. The way she cares. How much she _loves_ him.

“I’m sorry,” he soothes into her hair. She sniffs and nods but still doesn’t pull away. 

Eventually though, Jughead feels her suck in a breath and draw back, eyes rimmed a little with red, but looking at him like he’s her whole world. It scares him to think he might be. 

“Are you cold?” he asks, fingering the material of his jacket around her body. 

“No.” She takes it off and drapes it over the back of the couch. He looks towards her for clarification as she takes a sip of milkshake. “It was the thing that smelled most like you.”

For a good few seconds, he can’t swallow. He kisses her instead.

-

There’s a dance at Riverdale High. Jughead knows Betty finds wants to go but she’s afraid to ask him. Even after all of this time and everything they’ve shared, the birthday party fiasco seems to have put her off ever asking him to do something social she knows he wouldn’t enjoy. 

And so here he is, making some grand gesture in a tux he’s borrowed from Archie, heart thumping as he hears her polite knock on the trailer door. It makes him smile unconsciously.

She makes her way inside and gasps when she sees him. “Jug…”

“Will you go to the dance with me, Betty Cooper?”

Her eyes mist over as she stands there, mouth agape in slightly comical fashion (and of course, he finds it adorable). “I…” she stutters. “It’s tonight.”

“I know.”

“I don’t have a dress.”

“I thought you might say that.” He disappears into his bedroom and collects the white dress he’d bought at the mall earlier. He’d had to guess her size and he’s really not sure whether she’ll like it, but she was the first thing he’d thought of when he saw it on the hanger and he just wants to do this for her: be the kind of boyfriend who’ll go to a dance because she wants to; just wants to do whatever will make her happy.

He knows in his bones she’d do the same for him.

“Juggie…” A tear finds its way down Betty’s cheek and she wipes at it quickly. “It’s beautiful.”

“Is that a yes?” he asks, because he’s not entirely sure what her expression means. All of a sudden though, he’s surrounded by blonde waves and vanilla, strawberries and goodness and she’s kissing him like her life depends on it. He’s not exactly complaining.

“I love you,” she sighs, and Jughead decides this feeling must be better than winning the lottery.

“I love you too.”

He waits on the couch as she changes into the dress and spends a mildly disconcerting length of time in his bathroom, during which he can hear her rifling through the cupboard, but finally she emerges and steals his breath.

“You look…” Beautiful isn’t enough. “Ethereal.” 

She blushes, cheeks flushing pink and he thinks he loves her even more, if that’s possible.

They drive to the school parking lot without saying anything to each other. There’s a song on the radio weaving lyrics into the air along the lines of _‘I meant every word that I said when I said that I love you. I meant that I love you forever’_. Jughead doesn’t think there could be anything more apt right now.

They park up and as Betty slides out of the seat, she grabs his serpents’ jacket, pulling it on in the cool night air. He only watches for a moment, throat thick and tongue clumsy in his mouth because she’s like nothing he’s ever seen. And yeah, he’s thought about her in that jacket before but he’s committing this vision to memory now because she looks like a dream in her white dress with blonde waves framing her face. An angel, perhaps.

She looks, he decides, unequivocally and irrevocably _his_.

Later, instead of dropping her back at her house, he takes her to the trailer. They head straight for his bedroom and she’s halfway to taking the jacket off when he stops her.

“Leave it on.”

He thinks she might be about to ask why, but she seems to stop herself, remembering her manners. “Okay.”

His mouth quirks upwards slightly but he kisses her collarbone so she can’t see. He suddenly gets why the jocks give their girls the letterman jackets. “I just…You look...”

“I am,” Betty states, pulling back a little breathless to murmur against his lips. “I am yours.”

She only gives the jacket back when he takes her home and even then it doesn’t seem to smell like him anymore. It smells like her.

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics are taken from 'Keep on Loving You' by Cigarettes after Sex.  
> Comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
